


Across The Sea of Years

by Gairid, Leshan



Series: Torn, Frayed and Mended [4]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:27:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/pseuds/Gairid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leshan/pseuds/Leshan
Summary: Part Four of the seriesTorn, Frayed and Mended. Brian returns to New Orleans; Lestat & Louis are off on their holiday courtesy of Brian and some interesting things occur along the way.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> While it's not entirely necessary to read the earlier parts of the series, it will most certainly enhance this one---and many thanks to everyone who has been following along and leaving precious comments and kudos. Your continued interest and interaction is ambrosia to us!
> 
> Credit to Led Zeppelin for sporadic use of lyrics from various songs of theirs for chapter titles.

**PROLOGUE**

The plane began a slow descent and the change in pressure awakened the man dozing in the wide leather seat. He raised the seat back and yawning hugely, he ran his hand through his dark hair, grown quite long after months of inattention. Across the aisle, his traveling companion, a large black dog with a somewhat intimidating mien, slid down from his curled position and came across to have his wide mutt’s head petted. The man did so, and went a step further, massaging the muscles in the dog’s shoulders and sides briskly for a few minutes before standing up himself and stretching his back as he moved down the aisle to the beautifully appointed galley. He retrieved two bottles of cold water and a bowl for the dog; they both drank thirstily.

The man sat again, sliding the window cover open. The afternoon sun glared, a silver coin in the colorless sky and far off to the west, dark clouds hung low on the horizon flickering with lightning and fat with rain. There was another shift in altitude as the plane crossed over north Florida, flying in from a wide arc that he knew would take them over the Gulf of Mexico first, followed by a steeper descent on the approach to New Orleans.

He pressed the intercom button and spoke briefly with the pilot to confirm landing time and temperature, and then turned to look out the window again. The shadow of the jet crossed land’s end and then onto the pale green coastal waters of the Gulf. In minutes the green turned slate blue dotted with tiny white specks, sailboats and yachts and fishing craft. The man’s attention fled from the view below and turned inward where his thoughts shifted and turned and bumped restlessly. Outwardly he appeared relaxed, a handsome man who, as he approached his fortieth year, looked enviably younger. He took care of himself, did all the necessary things to keep his body fit and his mind active, but there was more to his youthful appearance than regular exercise, intellectual curiosity, and a good skin cream. Yes, indeed.

He’d flown from Shannon, Ireland to Boston, stopping to visit his family there and that turned out to be a lot less awkward than usual; he stayed nearly two weeks, catching up with his parents, his brother and sister and her kids, much grown since he’d seen them last. It was a good visit all around, but he had begun to get anxious to get back to his home. His father and mother came along when his brother drove him to the airport.

He was happy to be returning to his life in New Orleans, excited to see his friends, to get back into a routine he had lately come to miss sorely. If there was some trepidation in his mind, it was pushed easily to one side; he knew it for what it was; coming back from a completely different environment where he’d been leading a solitary existence back to where he would need time to catch up and be reabsorbed into New Orleans.

The time away had ostensibly been to regroup from the more outré events that had occurred some eight months earlier; a time to contemplate the direction of his life as well. In his mind more than enough time had passed when the call came at last to ask him to come home if it pleased him to do so. His relief had been huge, his elation overwhelming. In the week or so when he’d been making arrangements for his return, he’d caught hold of that elation and tucked it back into his heart where it floated, a pure bubble of warmth.

*******  
Chapter One (Brian)**

Murphy and I stepped out of the small cinderblock office that serviced the private hangars and into a blast of murderous afternoon heat and I saw Tee George driving in along the fence line. He stepped down from the truck and absorbed the force of Murphy’s squealing, delirious greeting easily.

George Duplessis is a big man; a huge man, really. His mother told me he’d been a large baby, a sturdy toddler, “And yes child, he could eat! There was never enough to eat for mon petit.” Miz Duplessis told me. That’s what she called him, ‘petite’, that affectionate French endearment that can be heard all over in South Louisiana.

Petit...’tite…Tee. Little George. Little George is a dark-skinned black man, a shade under seven feet tall. He has enormous appetites and a huge heart and like many big men, he’s learned to keep his powerful body under control lest he inadvertently harm someone. He’s affable and he’s cultivated his innate gentleness—who would step up against him? We met in the dark days just after Katrina and from that day we grew a friendship. George runs the three crews who work on the Rise Up New Orleans Project and his sister Jasmine is in charge of the office. He’s got a talent for finding skilled people and organizing them into teams that work well together—the Project is as much his baby as it is mine. It helps that he seemingly knows everyone in the City, knows who he can trust or feels he can give a chance to prove themselves. I leave all that in his large and capable hands.

Once he’d gotten Murphy relatively calmed down, he turned to envelop me in a strong hug and man, it felt good. His clean, strong male scent made me a little light-headed, to tell the truth; I guess I really needed a hug, though I probably could have done with a little less enthusiastic back-pounding. After a minute he stepped back and looked at me. “Got some new muscles when you were over there.”

“New ones in places that were neglected before, I guess. I learned to sail. Did a lot of hiking and riding horseback.” I said, watching the crew unload the baggage from the belly of the jet onto a low cart. Minutes later, it was neatly stowed in the back of the pickup.

“You eat anything on that fancy plane?”

I grinned. “Bag of peanuts, man.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he said, getting into the truck. “And you probably didn’t even eat those. I stopped at Mahonys’ and picked up a couple po’boys. Ease you back into New Orleans.”

“I love you, man,” I told him fervently. Murphy jumped into the back and I climbed in, sighing a little at the blast of refrigerated air. I didn’t say much during the drive, feeling oddly overwhelmed and a little out of place. Everything seemed so crowded after the expanse of nothing but rolling hills, endless sea and big skies I’d gotten used to and the traffic was deafening, even with the windows up. He caught me up on what was going on with who (you never met a guy who liked to know ‘the news’ like Georgie does) and had no objections to my relative silence.

Washing down the po’boys (crawfish for me, oysters for George) with cold Abita in the bright kitchen of Maison Chêne, I started to feel less disconnected, listening to him talk about the work that had been done while I was gone. I ate the last bite of my sandwich and he looked at me. “So you stayin’ here?”

“Just for a night or two,” With a full stomach and the beer under my belt, I felt like I could sleep for a week. Just like the po’boy was to ease me back into New Orleans, so too was my staying here for a few days. “I need to go through the stuff we put in the garage, but I think I’ll just wait until morning. Tell Jassy I’ll be in early next week.”

“You better be,” he said, picking up the wrappings and the bag and depositing everything into the trash. “Ain’t gonna lie. She’s got some plans to lay on you, so you better pick a day when you have a lotta time.”

“Yeah, I bet she does. I’ll call her and find out when she wants me there.” Another strong George-hug and he let himself out the back door.

The house seemed very quiet once I was alone, just a few clocks ticking and that ambient low hum that you notice when you’re in a quiet space. Murphy was already curled up on his chair in the living room; I could just see his dark head from where I stood. He’s getting older and all the travel had tired him out; he probably wouldn’t move until morning.

The clouds were moving in and shadows had begun to gather in the kitchen. I finished my beer and when I lowered the bottle, my eyes were drawn to the back door. It wasn’t the one that Lestat had torn from the hinges the night Louis had been shot, but the new one I’d hung in an equally new frame a week or so before I’d left. Nothing in the room spoke of the chaos of that night--the pristine floors showed no traces of the bright blood, no smears of it on the gleaming counters. I shook my head.

Of course, there was nothing to be seen. It had been nearly a year ago and I’d cleaned it myself, tiny temblors shivering through my overwrought nerves as the adrenaline rush had dissolved. I’d been mesmerized by the bright arterial red splashes of Louis’s blood daubing the kitchen. I’d touched the runnels on the ruined door absently licking it from my fingers, the temblors increasing as I did so. At length, I wiped the rest of it away with clean towels that I burned in the fireplace, one strip at a time.

Was the divot in his back still noticeable or was there just a white scar there now? The initial wound had been so horrifyingly large, a fist-sized ragged hole. Lestat had been in the hidden room with him, feeding him, healing him …and I’d been out here leaning on the sink, licking his spilled blood from my hands. I closed my eyes. Were they lying together now on silken sheets? Were Lestat’s fingers tracing Louis’s skin lightly at this moment, lovingly tender as they began their slow dance of ecstasy? I spoke Louis’s name into the quiet room, tasting the sound of it and missing him with everything in me.

(Next: Chapter Two - Dance in the Dark of Night)


	2. Dance in the Dark of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrival in North Africa

**Chapter Two  
Dance in the Dark of Night  
(Louis)**

When we arrived in Morocco, we spent a week in Marrakech exploring the nighttime souks in the medina, a place and culture that has changed very little since medieval times. It was absorbing to ferret out treasures to send along home and observing with interest the myriad interactions among the remarkable variety of seething humanity to be found wandering this ancient city. From Marrakech we went on to the coast to Casablanca, wandering the labyrinthine streets and alleys where we were met with beauty and filth in equal measure.

Lestat enjoyed these rambles immensely, stopping to speak with sellers of hashish or hammered brassware, sinuous, gorgeous silks and jewel-toned lanterns. We passed an evening with a man called Nisar. Extraordinarily handsome and of indeterminate age, he made endless pots of sweet Maghrebi mint tea served in beautifully tinted glassware. Lestat and were able to sip this offering with an appreciation for the scent and even without detecting much in the way of flavor, it was most enjoyable. Nisar spoke excellent French and regaled us with tales of his life and those people he knew when they passed by. As so often happens when Lestat is involved, he was quite smitten with his guest, pausing often to stroke the sleeve of Lestat’s shirt or to gaze into Lestat’s tumultuous eyes with utter fascination. It gives me great pleasure to watch humans respond to him, nearly as much as Lestat takes in such attention.

Other nights found us examining Moorish splendor and French colonial Art Deco blended into unique shapes and somehow melding to form something entirely different and of itself. At the Mosque of King Hassan II, Lestat took it upon himself to take me in his arms and rise just below the summit of the minaret without anyone noticing our ascent. We stood side by side looking out at the dark ocean.

“Shall we call, Louis? Take our trip to Shangri-La?” he said at length. His voice was low and warmly suggestive.

Since our arrival in North Africa and without anything in the way of overt discussion, we allowed a slow build of erotic tension to rise between us, unmitigated by any but the mildest of light touching, and the morning embrace we were accustomed to falling asleep in.

“Shangri-La?” I said lightly. “I suppose one could infer that from the ambiguous descriptions in the travel packet.”

“An earthly paradise,” he mused, leaning his elbows on the ledge of the parapet, clasping his hands over the precipitous drop. "I looked over those papers again, the ones Brian sent with the information on this place. It is hard to interpret, intentionally vague I suppose. Is it a retreat? Do you think we can expect group therapy sessions? ‘How to get your immortal marriage back on track’, maybe? Or is it a resort where I can shop until it worries our accountant?" His voice was light, the edge of amusement laced with his irrepressible curiosity and the anticipation he was feeling.

“I think it’s something in between retreat and resort though I don’t believe the amenities include marriage counseling or psychotherapy for vampires. Think now, Lestat—who would willingly take it upon themselves to navigate the maelstrom of your average vampire’s mind?”

He laughed. “Good point. Not another vampire---most of us are far too immersed in our own excellent selves, yes? Perhaps some other type of immortal? Or even a mortal?”

“Though Brian’s aim was help strengthen our relationship, I can say with some certainty that he wouldn’t presume to send us to this fabled therapist you seem intent on locating.”

“He might if he ran across one, don’t you think?”

“Not likely he will, is it? It’s not as though it would come up in any kind of daily conversation.” I wanted desperately to brush his wind-tossed hair back from his brow. Sometimes my own insistence on the anticipatory pleasures of withholding physical gratification seems so pointless. Well, until that gratification manifests, anyway.

“He found this place we’re going to, didn’t he? I still can’t get over that, by the way.”

“He can be most determined when he sets his mind to something.” I agreed. “He thinks this place would afford us stimulations that are unique to our kind and a chance to immerse ourselves in one another. Timeless refuge, but also a place of provocation for the senses.”

“Well, you seem to have gleaned quite a bit more from the travel packet than I did,” he said. His voice held the tiniest note of possessiveness, something he rarely tries to conceal these days: indeed, it’s another sign that he is no longer feels the need to hide what he is feeling from me.

I repaid him in turn by concurring that I heard and understood him; he has reservations about my situation with Brian and it’s something we have yet to explicitly address. “I can’t be sure, but I think that these descriptives were afforded by a brief mind touch from one of the hosts, the vampire he met with to seal the deal for this trip,” I said, neutrally.

“Hm.” Lestat said, “You don’t sound too enthusiastic about that,” he said with a knowing little smile. Just like that, the manifestation of possessiveness was adroitly transferred to me and maker-fledgling barrier be damned.

“I will reserve judgment until such time as I have a chance to speak with this Gareth, the one Brian met with in Wales.” I said.

“Fair enough.” He stepped back from the window and turned to examine the mosaic work on the walls. “I wonder if it bears resemblance to Night Island. At least, the little bits I remember about it.”

Ah. Now we have touched a sensitive nerve. “I shouldn’t think so,” I said calmly. “Armand built that place essentially with Daniel in mind. All the things any mortal might ever want or dream of, yes? I think immortals were somewhat of an afterthought, secure though it was.”

He smiled at me then and the small bud of worry that had begun a hesitant unfurling in my chest withered somewhat.“I’m fine. It was one of those mental jumps that happen from time to time,” he said. “That and, well--I think of her sometimes, Louis. I suppose I always will.”

“Did you come here with her?” I ventured. We rarely spoke of her, Lestat’s Queen. As forthright as he is in his writings, he does not expose everything to the scrutiny of all and sundry. He, as much as anyone else, is entitled to keep whatever he wishes to himself and is in no way obliged to give a reason for it.

“Not here, no. There are reminders, though. The blue walls, the corridors and stair steps in the city.” He inclined his head slightly to indicate the sprawl of Casablanca behind where we were standing. “It’s such a distinctive color. I saw the same thing in Greece. We were in Greece.” A complex series of minute expressions crossed his features; he closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head slightly.” I know your feelings about her--about she and I--are complicated.”

I took his words as a prompt. I wanted honesty from him: he had every right to expect the same from me. “Not the way you might think,” I said carefully. “Her motives were so alien to me; I don’t think anything has ever struck me as so completely frightening as the calm manner in which she laid out her plans for the destruction of the mortal world. Beyond that was that when she did so, I could see very clearly that you were horrified as well, and so torn by what you had done in her company...torn and perhaps compelled as well.” Saying that last was akin to biting into a nugget of sweet poison; I knew that he would understand exactly what I meant. I continued, “That, in spite of it all, you loved her and you were still drawn to her.” I swallowed, throat suddenly dry with the echo of the fear and despair from that time. Our eyes locked. “I confess I did not understand it and I did not love her for it.”

He took me into a wordless embrace and rubbed his cheek against my hair and I brought my arms up along his ribs and held him crushingly tight. Sometimes we didn’t have the words. We heard sounds far below at the same moment and reluctantly drew apart.

“Someone’s on the way up. We should go.”

He gave me a sudden, perfectly blinding smile and leapt through the window so quickly I lost sight of him, picking him out moments later when he landed far up the beach. Pulling in a deep breath, I followed him.

I made a less than graceful landing beside him, but at least I hadn’t fallen over or knocked him down. I didn’t care much for this particular gift and employed it sparingly, though over time I’d managed to become a bit more adept at it. Truthfully, I much preferred Lestat’s sure embrace as well as his confidence when taking to the air for a trip of any distance. He caught me about the waist and pulled me into an impromptu waltz in the sand as the sea-fog drifted around us. The salted mist had an enveloping, secretive effect, as though we were floating in a cloud. He slowed down the waltz and we began simply rocking together.

“We haven’t even arrived at our destination yet and we are already making more headway,” he said. There was no teasing in his voice at all, just a deeply satisfied affection.

I smiled at him. “We’ve managed more in a few months than in all the time we have known each other. I can’t think why we waited so long.”

“Oh, I can. It’s not easy, is it, talking about all these things we hold inside. So much of it sounds like fevered dreams such as mortals have. It hasn’t helped that patience has never been a very large part of my repertoire.”

I made a soft sound between a laugh and a snort. “And I have taken my own sweet time learning not to set my feet quite so firmly when I decide I know all there is to know about any given situation.”

“Very true. You really are one of the most stubborn people I have ever come across. If you think I’m trying, you should see what it’s like trying to budge you when you get an idea in your head.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Surely you are not saying that to me.”

“Touché,” he said after a moment. “Come to it, I suppose I can give your stubborn streak a run for the money with mine.”

“An interesting wager,“ I said thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should send out a poll to those who know us well.”

I repressed a shiver of longing at the warm chuckle by my ear. “I know what you’re thinking, _mon petit_.”

“Oh, yes?”

“You are thinking your stubbornness means we must wait to once again taste the pleasures of the flesh.”

As a matter of fact, I was, but I decided not to admit to it. “I’ll make it up to you.”

We continued rocking together a moment longer in time with the susurration of the waves and then he stepped away, taking my hand in his. “You know, if I think about it now, I do have some memories of Night Island. I remember you always near but giving me space. You always do know what’s best for me.”

I said nothing, content to listen to him as we left the water’s edge and made our way to the long, stony breakwater. He climbed the rocks easily and found a flat one at the top to accommodate us. I sat down beside him.

“Of the many clubs in the complex, I remember going into one of them more than once. It featured a garish jungle motif, you know, fake palms and animals peering from the painted foliage. Neon yellow giraffes and pink lions and a tremendous aqua-blue rhinoceros,” He said, draping his arm over across my shoulders. “It was truly dreadful, but it didn’t matter because the music was loud and the mortals were excited to be there, engaging in their mating rituals. Beautiful mortals, women barely dressed, with their eyes painted and their lips stained red and men with heavy gold chains around their necks. There were so many of them and the smell of their blood was so very intoxicating. I remember thinking I had no business enjoying anything and that I really must be a monster, one with no conscience at all, yet I stayed there and I went back on other nights, stalking amongst them and thinking how I would love to tear through them all and feast on them, just bathe in their blood. Something had been unleashed in me and, Louis, it was no easy thing to rein that monster back in. I know why, too. I didn’t want to rein it in. It’s a terrible thing to feel so far above thinking, sentient creatures and not give much of a damn about them and their potential or their innocence.”

I continued to hold to my silence. He didn’t want or need encouragement or sympathy or assurances of his goodness or his evil. That’s rarely what confessions are aimed at.

“You were right to fear her,” he went on, turning his head so he could look into my eyes, “You should fear me, to be completely honest, because there are still those times I want to release that thing that lives in me.”

His words were dark, but I understood that this was very much a part of what we were trying to achieve together. His confession was a secret, one that repulsed and fascinated him by turns. I had intimate acquaintance with this secret. Probably most vampires do, though I would concede the emotions it brings forth vary wildly from one to another. What had happened to Lestat and the things he had done when he was with Akasha had shaken him to his soul—not just the love he felt for her, but how she had so easily pulled the beast from him and set it free and how there are times when he does not necessarily want to rein the beast in. Not at all. The secret is mine as well, you see--sometimes you want only to lose yourself in that madness. Sometimes the idea of never returning from that sort of madness is almost irresistible.

“I don’t fear you, Lestat,” I told him. “I think it takes a good deal of time to process all that we are and all that we are capable of. We travel in and out of madness from the weight of years, from the losses and from the sheer, terrible beauty of the world and all it gives to us and takes from us. The worst wounds are not physical ones.” I twisted my body and, took his face in my two hands. “This is why it’s so important that we are honest with each other and that we treat each other with love and with respect, else we might give in and stop resisting, just let go and lose our higher selves and drive away whatever is left of our souls. Lestat, You are sacred to me in all the ways that really matter. Maker and lover and friend. I regret that I could not be everything that you needed me to be right from the beginning.”

I ran one thumb across the satin of his lips. His body trembled and his eyes glistened, red with tears that brimmed but did not fall; I touched my tongue to one eye and then the other to capture them and take them into my mouth. “I do not fear you, Lestat, nor do I fear the beast in you because it lives in me, too. It’s our bond that will keep us safe and our bond that will allow the beast freedom in those times when it can no longer be contained. Madness and terrible beauty, my darling.”

Next: Chapter Three - The Halls of Plenty


	3. The Halls of Plenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Checking out the vampire resort and its amenities.

**Chapter Three  
The Halls of Plenty  
(Louis)**

The interior of this splendid compound was multi-leveled and built surrounding a long central courtyard large enough to accommodate a wide assortment of trees and understory plantings. Everywhere the music and glimmer of running water could be seen and heard. The levels and the configuration of the various balconies and alcoves tricked the eye, appearing almost labyrinthine and the overall effect afforded was one of secret, mysterious delight to be discovered around every turn. Some feat of marvelous engineering had been employed so the very roof of the building could be retracted as it was this evening, inviting in the cool ocean air and a view of the night sky.

I leaned against an outwardly curved rail a floor below the topmost level, drinking in the extravagant beauty of the architecture and breathing the intoxicating and familiar scent of jasmine and roses blended with the pervasive scent of brine from the sea. On top of it all was the blissful scent of mortal blood, strong and vital. Many of the alcoves had pools of water within or comfortable, thick carpets and mound of pillows - some were screened from view but others were semi-private or exposed to the view of whoever might be looking. In several areas, sinuous movements could be seen, sighs and murmurs heard. The blood I smelled was borne upon a current of breeze, easily traced back to an alcove across and one level down from where I stood. No attempt at privacy was in evidence and the dark-haired mortal woman held ecstatic in the embrace of an immortal female found my eyes and smiled over a bare, ivory shoulder. I inclined my head to her and pulled my gaze away, wondering what on earth was taking Lestat so long.

There were rooms behind the outer ring of balconies, secured private apartments and it was from one of the doors just behind where I stood I had emerged while Lestat sorted through each of the gorgeously appointed _gandora_ style robes left for our comfort and use. These were modified somewhat from the traditional Moroccan robes of that name, made with luxurious, multi-hued silks and various styles of intricate embroidery and the beauty of each had been immediately irresistible to Lestat; he waved me out with faux imperiousness once I’d chosen one for myself, insisting on making “an entrance” even though I had not yet strayed far from our chambers.

“Most of our guests find themselves completely preoccupied with their partners when they first arrive, but should you feel the need for replenishment, the mortals among us are pleased to accommodate." I turned to see Gareth approaching. Brian had said he posed quite a striking appearance, and I’d noted him at once when we arrived. At that time we had been preoccupied with the formalities of introductions and the inevitable sizing up of one another that cannot be avoided by our kind when encountering vampires previously unknown.

We’d been greeted upon our arrival by Gareth and his maker, the apparent main host of the enterprise, a vampire with a powerful presence who gave his name as Cedric. We also made acquaintance with Cedric’s companion, Lesedi, a tall and regal woman of clear African descent. Her skin gleamed, smooth as polished jet, but of a much warmer appearance I had to stop myself from staring: I had met only one other dark-skinned vampire years ago and the meeting had been quite brief.

After the cordial amenities had been met Cedric took some time to present some of the history of the unique setting and services that were available along with some time for us to make whatever queries we had. Lestat, ever curious and, it must be said, still somewhat suspicious, interrogated more than queried, but somewhere along the way, his suspicion was put to rest. I suspect the laurels for this turnaround could be laid directly at the feet of the queenly Lesedi.

Gareth stepped up and stood beside me, laying his enormous hands on the rail. He leaned forward, far enough that I impression of a more towering height that he actually possessed was lessened. He was every bit as arresting as Brian had intimated and his appearance was outside my experience of immortals. I said as much and Gareth chuckled richly. “I don’t suspect I am anyone’s idea of the darkly beautiful vampire, but being imposing does have its perks. Cedric thought so, anyway.” He smiled widely and somehow I could tell this was just his unabashed manner of expression, almost as though he had a hard time remembering that bared fangs could very easily be interpreted as aggressive. I liked his straightforward manner, finding myself warming to him and also wishing desperately that I’d seen his interaction with Brian.

“In truth, I had not expected to see either of you alone at such an early stage. Your Brian intimated that this was a sort of delayed honeymoon for the two of you. He’s a persistent mortal, that one,” Gareth said. He chuckled warmly again.

“Well, it is that...a honeymoon delayed for far too long.” came Lestat’s voice from just behind where we stood. I turned with a smile and my short wait was amply rewarded by the sight of him, gloriously resplendent in cream colored silk threaded through with glints of gold. His elegant feet were deliciously bare. “Chalk my delayed appearance to my vanity. First impressions in a new style of clothing, you might say. What do you think, my darling one?”

“I think you are achingly beautiful, _mon Lion_.”

“Good enough to eat.” Gareth agreed with obvious admiration.

Lestat preened briefly and smiled, “I hope I was not interrupting anything?”

“Not at all. Gareth saw me on my own and thought I might be interested in an accommodating mortal.”

“And are you?” Lestat quirked an eyebrow.

“I could be persuaded. I thought tonight we might take an exploratory ramble.”

“I think that might be my cue to make myself scarce,” Gareth said, “I hope we have a little time to talk some evening.” His avid glance encompassed both of us.

“We’ll make it a point,” Lestat said genially. Gareth nodded and moved back along the corridor he’d emerged from.

“How does someone that big make himself scarce?” Lestat whispered. He looked for all the world like a wayward boy holding back laughter. After a moment he settled down and took me into his arms. “That midnight blue is stunning on you, Louis. Doubtless, it would be more stunning beneath you with me surrounding you, but it will do for right now.”

“Flatterer.” I murmured.

“Now. You mentioned a walk, I believe, to see this version of Shangri-La?” He made a sweeping gesture, looking around much as I had been doing before Gareth approached

“We may have our mythologies mixed, but as I have yet to absorb much in the way of whatever Moroccans might term such a place, Shangri-La will have to do. Before we proceed, though I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything, _chaton_.”

“Breathe and be still. Attend to nuances and tell me what you feel. Give yourself five minutes or so.”

He did and I allowed myself to relax against him. After a little time, I felt it again, a sort of thrumming low in the chest and pooling most pleasantly at the base of the spine and the lower belly. Scents and sounds seemed magnified and there was a very strong undercurrent of languorous eroticism

Lestat felt it too. His posture had changed, seeking closer contact. “Mmm.” he said “What is it, do you think? Some resonance that vibrates for our pleasure? I vote we walk later.” He turned me into his embrace and nosed beneath my hair. I ran my hands up his back.

“I think we are feeling freed mind touch. Vibrations, yes, but produced by the immortals around us. The couple across from us, for instance.” 

He lifted his head and looked around, watching them for a minute or so. “I think you’re right,” he marveled. Distant, somehow, yet intense for all that.” He looked across again, and at that moment the air shivered with the mortal woman’s orgasm, her cries of pleasure resonating all around us, a signal boosted by the swoon experienced by her vampire lover. “Delicious.” Lestat’s voice was pitched low and he held his mouth open slightly, the better to draw in their combined scent.

Without discussion, he took my hand. We walked to a cross corridor, following it to a short flight of stairs. At the top was another of the delightful alcoves, this one quite secluded. Lanterns flickered invitingly within. Lestat knelt and then reclined back against the large cushions, drawing me down to nestle beside him in a way that was completely familiar, yet new as it so often feels. He pushed his face beneath my hair again and his slow, deep inhalation made my heart beat faster. It was clear that he heard it, or perhaps felt it thudding against my ribs and knew it for the cue that our little game of abstinence was over.

“Mmm.” he said, shifting against me. "I always expect it will take some grand gesture, and then it turns out to be something so very simple,” he said softly. His lips teased mine and I pulled him in closer for a satisfyingly deep kiss and thus we surrendered to one another, sharing treasured bodies and precious blood and the mind link we had learned to forge with this communion.

Hours passed and we lay twined, sated and drowsy. Lestat’s hand traced lazy circles just below my shoulder blade. “This reminds me of something.”

“What would that be?” he asked, “Because it reminds me that as much as I chafe at it, your abstinence game always proves to be so ultimately satisfying.”

I smiled and reached between his legs to cup him lovingly in my hand. “It reminds me of that night in I came to you at last in Sonoma.” He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue, though he was far more preoccupied with my hand than anything I was saying. I recognized the heat in his eyes and continued to push him toward a blaze – we had at least another hour before sunrise.

“This place could not be more different, I realize. None of the trappings of Monsieur Le Rock Star here. No pretty mortal bandmates dizzy with sex and substances and fame in the fine glass fishbowl of a house with a helicopter, of all things, crouching on the front lawn.” He pushed into my hand with some force.

“Conveyance, Louis, that’s all it was,” his voice was warm honey. “Do go on, please.”

“The door opened and I saw you silhouetted in the doorway for a moment. Just the shape of you made my heart squeeze - it had been such a long time since I’d seen you, my shining angel.” The memory caught up with me and I heard my voice hitch. 

“You showed me a whole new side of yourself,” he said huskily and though he still pressed tight to my hand, his mood had shifted much as I realized mine had.

“I remember going to the forest with you, coming together at last, and I thought I should die from the way you welcomed me into you, and how you clung to me afterward. We needed no words.”

His mouth was on me, kissing my eyes and I realized that they were wet with tears. My story, meant to stoke his passion, had surprised me with the force of the emotion it drew from the two of us. But then, it had been a pivotal moment, cut short far too quickly after having been parted from each other for so long, and the events that followed had changed him. Those events had changed us all.

“Louis, my own. Do you know how very much I love you?” His voice was soft, so soft. I opened my mouth to speak, but he silenced me with a kiss and then went on, “You rarely speak of that time. These things have a way of curling in around themselves. We’re swimming in a very long river and we forget sometimes where the currents took us until we have occasion to think and speak of the miles and the years already behind us.”

I sat up and drew my knees to my chest. “This wasn’t exactly what I set out to do.” I said with a sigh.

Lestat smiled. “You can make it up to me this evening. For now, we should probably return to our chambers.” He glanced up at the sky, a shade lighter than it had been.

He rose and pulled me to my feet and we walked back down the steps toward our chambers.

NEXT: Close the Door, Put Out the Light


	4. Close the Door, Put Out the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which acquaintances are formed.

**Close The Door, Put Out The Light  
(Lestat)**

We stumbled to our quarters like the drunken, exhausted travelers we were; we were drunk on one another, on the coming together physically yes, but infinitely more. Louis’ tactic of keeping me at arm’s length was familiar to me by now, though as might be expected, I had no love of being denied by him or anyone else. Still, as I’d spoken against his abruptly eager lips, the game did have its payoff. I lay there replaying the passion of the night before in my mind and the way he so easily assumed control. Many times we had read material that characterized Louis as something of a boring, insecure man. While he is far more disciplined than myself, I can attest that I’ve never found him boring. Alright, yes, maybe a few times when I had a particular wild hair and wanted him to join me on an escapade, but it is his steadfastness that has saved me time and time again. What’s more, I can assure anyone that behind closed doors, he is nothing in the way of predictable or boring. How can he be, living with me? It may be beyond the capacity of mortal comprehension that each time for us is new. The feel of his strong hands drawing me in, and those elegant, long fingers that made me an enviable instrument of his passion, played with consummate skill. And oh the things those fingers can do. Like any couple, we move in turns of dominance and submissiveness; If last night was any indication, our time here would have Louis in the lead and I heartily approved. Yet even as I lay spooned against him, I was awash in a love for him that made the physical expression somehow ineffective. There was no accurate way to explain it, all that we were to one another, past, present and anywhere in between. We were infamous in the immortal world, but more so with one another. This thought made sense to me as I caressed his shoulder and felt him stir slightly. When I thought of his face last night, his eyes yielding the taste of his tears borne of not just a love for me, but for the love of us, well, I could have, as they say, died a happy man if indeed that were possible.

I slipped from the bed and stood for a moment as I wondered what he saw in his dreams. Was he replaying our time of reunion in California or was it something far more mundane like one of his walks with Brian where they’d sit and watch the tourists in Jackson Square before heading to the sweet, smoky darkness of one of the jazz clubs in the Faubourg Marigny where each, in turn, could drink their elixirs of choice. He did not often share with me the thoughts that played out in the cinema of his mind as he slept, whereas I would relate to him the seemingly nonsensical or all-too-vivid images I’d experienced. It made me smile to think of just such a scene where I’d been rambling and he’d tended to something while half-listening, most likely one accounting task or another that left me far too frustrated to manage. Such little vignettes caused the outward normalcy of our life together to linger most pleasantly in my mind as I walked from the safety of the shuttered portion of our quarters to the luxuriously furnished suite. 

I looked over the selection of clothing that had been delivered, mostly consisting of caftans with ornate embroidery such as I’d worn the night before but I settled on a cream-colored silk pants that were far more appealing. I slipped into them and omitted a shirt, the better to let the warm night breeze caress my skin. From the balcony, everything was illuminated by soft, discreet lighting that created a mesmerizing emerald glow. I could neither see nor sense any other immortals which I found somewhat disconcerting. When I closed my eyes and scanned, I was met with definitive silence. What I could see from this vantage point, were the mortals below: Several women were gathered together at a table at the far end of the main entry looking over what appeared to be a calendar, while two men tended to the potted ornamentals near the center pool.

Mortals who lived and apparently worked for if not outright served vampires. Fascinating, I thought, starting down the stairs into the courtyard. Louis and I had mortals in our employ of course, though I would not confess to any of them being there as these mortals were; for standby sustenance. Wouldn’t confess, not couldn’t. I was thirsting, and it spurred an agitation that would only grow if I stayed here until Louis awoke. While it was tempting to linger if only to investigate the amenities, what I wanted with greater urgency was the feel of the ocean.

I passed the women at the table and though they did not acknowledge me verbally or even with polite nods, they were deliciously aware. It was as if I were walking past a garden of flowers where each bloom unfurled in slow motion. What were they whispering - or was it even whispers? Mm, no… it was an invitation, a welcome willingness within the old and young. As I walked I caught the glance of a young woman. Her brown eyes seemed to smile with understanding, and it was of course an understanding of what I was, perhaps who I was, and that same willingness to give herself to me in any way I desired. The woman next to her pulled the girl closer as if to curb the eagerness. That’s right dear, no need to advertise one selection when there’s an unlimited buffet. The crudeness of that thought was born of the thirst that I was not yet comfortable enough to satisfy with those who were there for just that purpose.

Out the door of the main buildings, there were more mortals, busy with pruning and painting. Again the ages varied, but none of them appeared to be past the age of thirty. A dark-haired twenty-something gazed at me from the third step of a ladder and I gave into a smile when his face seemed to ask if I was having fun imagining what he looked like under his simple clothing. Of course I am darling, and you know it.

Past this distraction there was a long, paved walkway lit in the same soft way as the pools. Arching amber lights overhead and among the plants the gentle glow of turquoise. The breeze picked up and seemed to clear my thoughts, though it was likely more a matter of having this time to myself. The journey here was lengthy, and while there was no need for apprehension, the initial meeting with Cedric and Gareth had me feeling quite out of my element if for no other reason than the unexpectedness of the island itself and the fact that it had been some time since I’d met such significant immortals. My mind reeled with questions and had it not been for Louis’s ever-calming presence, I might have stuttered them all out in succession like a child on a trip to Disneyland. 

There is little that can soothe me like water; whether it’s a long soak in an antique tub, a chlorinated pool or yes, best of all, the deep, dark ocean. Downward I walked until at last, the path opened up to a sprawling terrace. I didn’t bother to bring the torches to life as I stood there looking up at the waning moon as it danced behind the clouds. What I did do was draw in and release a slow breath in appreciation of the solitude as I descended the few steps and felt the sand on my bare feet. The silk pants were soon left behind and I was floating weightlessly, focused on the stars as they played hide and seek with sparse, smokey clouds. The litany of questions began to smooth themselves out and fade with the gentle swells until they were nothing more than ideas of questions, abstract and dreamlike where I could observe them in a strangely third-person manner but even that, ah it was strange indeed. Louis is my ocean, I felt the thought play long and gentle through my mind and then there were no thoughts, only breathing in and out and floating without a care. How long had passed I couldn’t say, but when I found my focus once more, no lights or shoreline were visible. The moon had given up the chase, and even the stars were hidden. I paddled myself around to the direction of the mortals as I honed in on their thoughts. They did not pick up on my intrusion, but may have paused for a moment as if remembering something they could not quite place. When the water grew shallow, I stood for a few minutes, listening to the call of a sea bird as the wind caressed my skin.

The damp sand met my feet and there came the sudden intuition that I was no longer alone. Intrigued, I picked up the silken pants and headed toward the terrace. Given the complete darkness, had I been mortal I might have walked into the unexpected companion as she stood on the bottom step.

//Monsieur de Lioncourt// 

//Lesedi//, I answered similarly without a second thought, then spoke aloud, “Forgive me. I’ve developed a far greater preference for spoken communication. Would you mind?”

“Not at all.” Her accent was provocative...a sort of proper and familiar British tinged with a gentle and melodious otherness that I assumed was her native accent. “I came for a swim as well, but I did not want to disturb you. I trust it was enjoyable?”

“Very much” I replied and then watched as she turned and walked up the steps. I presumed to follow and the torchieres at each side of the terrace came to life. It dawned on me that while her tone was cordial, the thought behind it may be otherwise. “My presence on this beach is no trespass, I hope.”

She turned to face me as she sat down on one of the stone benches. With a slight laugh she shook her head. “Quite the opposite. You are free to explore anywhere you like while you are here…. With or without clothing as you prefer.”

I looked down at the pants I still held in my hand and clearing my throat stepped into them with an easy smile. “Excuse that if you please. I tend to forget myself.”

“Yes, I’ve read just such scenes.” Her tone was casual, in contrast to her regal, almost statuesque posture. “I should tell you Lestat, that it is for me a true honor to have you with us at last.”

“Thank you. From what I’ve seen it is a beautiful place.” That threatened to stir all those settled questions back to the surface. “Certainly it was a pleasant surprise for Louis and I to come. I’m somewhat taken aback by the fact that neither of us knew about your island before now.”

“We have high reason to ensure the privacy of this place. You’d have come sooner or later, when the time was right.” She closed her eyes and her face seemed to go blank.

Her appearance had me entranced but I sat on the bench opposite hers and leaned back on one hand. Mr. Cool and Collected, that’s me. “I apologize if our arrival is premature,” I swear I felt Louis’ elbow in my ribs as soon as I said those words, and accordingly I sat a little taller. “Our Brian arranged it, though I’ll be damned if I know how he did it without our knowledge.”

Now she was studying me. “Mortals can be tenacious and he appears to be quite good at networking. I’ll tell you that was not a simple task to at last secure an introduction to Gareth. As I mentioned, we take security very seriously here.” Lesedi smiled, briefly. “I imagine your favored mortal has learned plenty about thought-shielding from both you and Louis, or so Gareth intimated. Whether or no, your timing is your timing. You are welcome to stay as long as you like, ten nights or ten years. Everyone is pleased to finally meet you in person.” Her features softened all at once and a warm smile accompanied the words. “Now tell me. Will you walk with me, handsome _Monsieur_?”

“I’d enjoy that very much.” I said, standing and offering my hand to her. When she touched me, there was an instant connection, something subtle and electric that was as old as the dawn of our kind. I closed my eyes to its power for a few seconds and when I opened them, she was close enough that I gave into the impulse I’d had the first time I saw her. She did not react when I touched her face; her expression once again went blank and like a blind man I saw her, carved out of mahogany, regal and deadly.

Did we stand on the path for minutes or an hour? I could not discern and as I opened my eyes, I saw hers focused upon me similarly. “I’m sorry.” I stuttered; I was oddly transfixed and unusually embarrassed by my actions.

She brought a hand up to mine and slowly lowered it from her face. “How can I not be among those to forgive your curiosity, Lestat?” She held onto my hand loosely, and we walked down the well-tended wooden walkway that was lined with tall, dense grasses. Again there came the thoughts I’d had the night of our arrival: Surely this was more than just a random island that I hadn’t known about until now. In my mind, I saw images of my time in Tibet, the discussions about such places in the world that to me had seemed to be only mythological tales of the elders. Yet here I was with the unshakable sense that this was the place… one of the places I’d heard of and to be certain, one of the places I would have inevitably sought out. We made our way up hillside steps with waterfalls on either side. Fog hung above the collecting pond farther down and rose around us like a cloud. I leaned over the side of the railing while she took a seat on a sculpted stone bench. Patiently, she waited as I took it in with my thoughts random and wandering. 

“Please. Come sit with me.” She said after a short time. 

That was both a command and a question. Of course, I was accustomed to such duality because I was usually the one asking and telling in the same breath. I went to sit beside her, but I could not keep my mind from wandering back to the nights when I’d traveled to places like this in the arms of a Goddess; the fact that this regal woman brought it vividly to mind was both unsettling and thrilling. 

“It seems to me that you are always searching. Even if you are right in the midst of abundance, there is still part of your spirit that yearns for something indefinable. Life as we know it is going well, but there it is in the wind.” She turned to me and the soft light caught her features in a way that would have again left me spellbound had I not looked away. “I don’t mean these words as a judgment, not at all. That yearning is one reason I felt so strongly for you as I read of your travels and heard of you from the others; I mean to say that I identified with you. Felt a kinship with your restless soul. Most of my life I have been the same, and even now in my happiness here, there are times when I’m convinced that my Great Intangible is just on the edge of the horizon.”

I nodded. “Just because you apparently could want for nothing, you do.” Her reply to this was the slightest nod of acknowledgment. Indeed I felt a kinship with her if only for identification with that same unspeakable craving. “You could say it’s been the downfall of both my lives and led me to situations that would have been better if they had been only mere fictions.”

“Ah but then you wouldn’t be who you are to all of us, would you?” Her smile came swift and genuine, her teeth starkly white against her ebony skin, fangs gleaming. If I had been a mortal, there and then I’d have had absolutely no chance of looking away as my death approached. In fact, I would have wept with ecstasy. “But this, yes,” She continued. “This I understand. Our searching has unintended consequences.”

“Oh, and we share a skill for grand understatements, I see.” I rose and held out a hand. “Will you show me more?” Had she come into my arms and allowed me to drink, I would have done it without question. In fact, I wanted it and what’s more, there was no way she didn’t know I wanted that very thing. It would have made understanding one another far easier, but there were those rare occasions to stand on propriety and mind the boundaries. Regardless of my reputation, I am capable of restraint. After we’d gone a fair distance we came to a massive rock formation that stretched ever-upward into more of that illuminated fog. I couldn’t help but think of the story of the beanstalk, and half expected to hear a bellowing voice from above.

“No giants, Lestat - at least I have not met any to date.” I turned to look at her and realized too late that my tone was likely sharper than it should have been. “Now it is my turn to apologize. Cedric and I are far more comfortable reading one another’s thoughts. You come across quite loudly. It’s difficult to wait until you speak the words.”

“I’ve been informed of my loudness, yes.” I thought of the many incidents that had arisen both from my verbal and physical intensity. “Though I have to say, you come across equally strong, _Madame_.” That made me smile in the dim light and she returned the expression. It was amazing to see her splendid countenance relax and not for the first time, I marveled at her beauty. I paused and leaned against the outcropping which offered a view of the glimmering lights of the Riad. We had in effect, traveled in a large circle and again I wondered that I had never before heard of this island and marveled again at Brian’s resourcefulness. 

“Come Lestat, our respective loves await us. I can feel my name on Cedric’s lips as he speaks to your Louis.”

She led the way down the sloped hillside and the questions I had went unspoken for the time being. Ahead, she swept aside the drooping fronds of a large palm and as we stepped into the clearing, Cedric and Louis stood in conversation and in sync, the turned with loving smiles upon their faces. In greeting, Cedric stepped forward and extended his arm to me, and I met him in a half-embrace while Lesedi moved to his side. 

“Initial explorations, I assume?” He kissed the smoothness of her cheek and looked back at me, his eyes softened. “As I’ve told Louis, the others are eager to meet you. Shall we?” 

We headed toward what could only be the glow of firelight and Louis fell into step beside me. When we’d initially arrived, there were no mentions of other immortals, but of course we’d felt them in that strange electric hum. Now it was time for introductions. 

Next:


	5. Fire and Ice

Fire and Ice  
(Lestat)

I thanked Cedric and took Louis’ hand gently into my own as we walked behind our hosts. A great stone circle was built around a center column of fire, contained in a cylinder of black mesh steel. As we approached, my attention fell on two immortals I hadn’t met, one in particular; A brown-skinned young woman with ice blonde hair and eyes so light that fire colored them a hypnotizing amber. That might have been remarkable enough on its own but what stopped me in my tracks was the fact that she couldn’t have been more than sixteen when she was turned. I found the thought strangely enticing, and with a genuine smile, I extended my hand to her. 

“A pleasure to meet you, my name is Marlana,” she offered. “I’ve heard so much about you and Monsieur Louis.” 

“The pleasure is ours, _ma chère_.” I countered. By my side, Louis took her hand in greeting before we took our seats. 

The vampire beside her had found his immortality late in his life. He looked like a man in his late sixties, perhaps even older and I found myself wondering about it as Cedric picked up the conversation. 

“Forgive me, Lestat. Do allow me to make proper introductions. To your right is Hallvard, who hails from the cold lands.”

The man stood only halfway to greet us and even then I was surprised by his bulk. He reached out a hand to me, “A pleasure to meet you, and please just call me Hal. It isn’t so fearsome, but the Viking in me died long ago. I spent time with Marius in Norway. He spoke of you often.”

How nice to know that this stranger was familiar with me through Marius and not simply material he’d read or things he may have heard through the grapevine. I gave him an easy smile and said we would have to find time to speak to one another during my stay. Far more than the one who had given me either of my lives, Marius had been a father figure to me and I was intrigued when I met anyone who knew him. It is always worthwhile to hear other perspectives of those you love, to in some way see them when they’re not looking. 

“I trust the accommodations have been to your liking?” Cedric inquired. “Typically we have a few more immortals in residence, and if you’d prefer a larger group during your stay I’m sure I could reach out to them.”

“That won’t be necessary. Sometimes less is more even for me.” I gave Louis a knowing look since it was he who helped me to remember that fact. “As for the the island itself? How might I say it? _Merveilleux et plus_.”

“ _Alléchant c'est sûr_?” He added with a knowing smile. 

“ _Tout à fait_.” I nodded in agreement. “Our suite is wonderful and the main courtyard is a continual invitation to the senses. It was a nice surprise to see that the roof opens in the evening. It’s a good thing David isn’t here. He’d talk you to sleep about the engineering details.” I studied him for a few minutes. “You’re certain David Talbot has never been here? It seems like just the sort of place he’d love to explore.” 

“That’s all Hal’s doing. His engineering know-how and connections have brought our home here into the modern age. To answer your question however, while he’s never visited us, David is as well known to all immortals as are you and Louis.”

“Nearly.” I said, feigning vanity before I laughed easily. I looked over at Louis who hadn’t even heard the remarks. He was holding the women captive with his looks, as always. Oh sure, they were having what seemed like an interesting conversation, but Marlana would look up every now and then and simply marvel. I knew the feeling.

“Mr. Lioncourt,” Hal cleared his throat. “Lestat,” “I have had the pleasure of speaking with Mr. Talbot and I believe you’re correct. He’s a wonderfully intelligent man.”

“You’ve met David?”

“Not in a manner of speaking. When I was in residence with Marius, in Norway, we used his computer to speak with David. At that point I’d never done such a thing and I’m embarrassed to say I felt like an excited child as I participated with such technology.”

I thought of the things Louis and I had done over Skype and hoped the thought wasn’t transmitted. “Yes, it’s all rather amazing. Norway you say?”

“Yes, Norway. It was shortly after the time when the young man left him. What was his name again, Michael? Damien?”

“Daniel?”

“Yes, that’s it, Daniel. Quite a strange situation all that, but I didn’t ask much about the others in his life. I’ve read all the books though I haven’t committed them to memory and of course, they’re only summaries. At any rate I wanted to really be with Marius, to share a friendship with him that wasn’t based on what I’d read. I apologize if I’m rambling…”

“Not at all.” I studied him again, thinking what he might have been like back in the time when the Viking in him had been fiercely alive. 

“While you’re here with us, I can give you a tour of the grounds and share some of the technological aspects. While I’d never refer to it as a job, I can tell you I’ve taken on everything from landscaping to the dome operations. Once I saw what technology had to offer, I couldn’t get enough of it.”

“Yes, I know the feeling. Though Louis has forbidden me to so much as look at my phone while we’re here.” It wasn’t really what I had planned as a highlight of this vacation but I found him amiable and along the way we could speak of his time in Norway. I agreed to his offer which obviously pleased him. He gave me a broad smile and excused himself to tend to that very technology before sunrise. Louis and I bid him good evening and I turned my attention again to the girl. 

“Marlana,” I waited to see her eyes; they were a mixture of green and gold even in the waning firelight. “You may be the youngest immortal I’ve seen in some time. Forgive me if my curiosity borders on rudeness.” 

Louis sat back in his chair. “That would never happen with you, Lestat.” 

I nodded shortly. Very funny, loverman.

“I was fifteen when Cedric and Lesedi found me. My homeland was in turmoil as it is to this very night. I was alone, hiding from those who would have surely killed me.”

“We were,” Lesedi intervened. “Cedric and I that is, you could say we were capitalizing on the atrocities.” She shifted in her chair, her long gown flowing and caressing her legs. “I mean those that were killing rather than the bloodshed of their victims, although we allowed that as well.”

“To those that were left for dead, beyond healing, we delivered a swift death to relieve them of their pain.” Cedric offered. 

“Including my parents.” Marlana affirmed. “The soldiers had raped my mother in front of my father, then beat and stabbed them both until they at least appeared dead.”

“Horrific,” Louis said softly as he leaned in toward her and sat with his elbows on his knees. He closed his eyes as her memories came forth. Though surely she had learned the art of concealing her thoughts, there was no need or even wish for such guise as she spoke and for better or worse her mental illustrations were unintentionally vivid. 

“Yes, I’ve found a hundred words to describe the days and nights I knew then. I only escaped their attention by hiding in a pit my father had made in the floor of our simple home. I lay beneath the boards, covered over in dirt and listened to their laughter as they violated everything sacred.” She paused and we all envisioned her there, half-naked herself, shaking and holding the screams inside her head that she dare not breathe into being. 

“We encountered the three of them, just coming out of the house.” 

“They were laughing, and not simple laughter, but mocking the woman they’d just defiled, spewing derogatory terms even as they redressed themselves.” Lesedi’s eyes narrowed at the memory and I saw in her the ancient killer, the malevolent spirit in her, in all of us that could dispense such animals with the mere flick of a thought. 

“We caught them up, and drank deeply. For these, death did not come as quickly as they would have liked. Why should it?” Cedric asked coldly. Louis nodded and I couldn’t have agreed more. There was part of me that argued in a higher logic that torturers being tortured is simply a perpetuation of the aberrance, but there were circumstances. There were always circumstances. “While they lay bleeding out upon the sand, their eyes torn away, we realized there was still the scent of life nearby.”

“Barely.” Marlana whispered. Louis held out his hand and she took it without looking at him. “I could hear my mother crying, and while I was terrified the soldiers would return, I emerged from the pit. She put her arms around me and told me to go, to hide, to run so far and so fast, but where could I go?”

“You couldn’t leave her.” Louis affirmed. “And you couldn’t stay.”

“I didn’t know it then, but there was another choice,” she said as she found Cedric’s eyes.

“We entered the house and her father was minutes from his death.” 

“ _Sema kwaheri moja_ …” She recited as she watched the movie again in her mind. “Who was this pale white man, huge to my eyes that was telling me to say goodbye to my father? I crawled to his side and prayed over him, kissed his eyes and told him over and over of my love. I watched as Cedric lifted him and held him close. My father’s body was limp from the beating of course, but as I watched, I could see the pain leave him, I could see the relief of death as it came. My mother was weakening by the moment, and Lesedi came to carry her in the same fashion, held close, her lips against my mother’s neck. To me then it appeared to be a gesture of comfort and ease, a tender kiss. I suppose that’s precisely what it was, most simply.”

“So you all left together then, and came here?” I asked. 

“We did. Marlana came to know our secrets, and within a year we collectively made the choice for her to join us in this life. For all intents and purposes, she is our daughter.” 

“I couldn’t love them more had I been born to them,” Marlana added. She looked adoringly from Cedric to Lesedi then to Louis and I in turn. “Surely had I stayed in the Congo, I would have been killed or worse. If there was any fear on my part or any unpleasantness to the actual process of becoming, it was a small price to pay in comparison.”

“A fate worse than death. I can understand that sentiment. When Lestat found me, my mortal heart was lost to the point that it seemed worse than any demise a blade, gun or vampire could deliver.”

“Mm, you said as much to the world in your novel. Like anyone, I felt enormously sorry for you at first Louis, but like Lestat I saw your strength as I turned the pages. I don’t think anyone with a truly weak constitution should be given the dark gift as the two of you liked to call it.”

I watched as Louis stiffened a bit and I knew it was on my behalf. She may have a few immortal years in her pocket, but she was still young and so the occasional thoughtless remark was forgivable. Hell, I was two centuries into the blood and I still opened my mouth before my brain or Louis could stop such an error. Yes indeed, the weak ones shouldn’t be given the dark gift. I had learned that the hard way. I stood up not out of irritation but simply tired of the chair against my back. There was a stone ledge nearby and I leaned against it casually. “The collective writings, I wonder, aside from revealing to her your own nature and histories, did the books serve as some kind of history lesson?”

“I’m not sure I follow.” Cedric replied.

I caught a glimpse of concern in Louis’ eyes. No worries I thought, I’m not about to launch into a tirade. “What I mean to ask is, since you three are not … of the same coven, shall we say, are the written accounts more reference material or entertainment? Are they some explanation of who we all are, or are they more, ‘let’s see what that rascal Lestat has been up to lately?’”

Surprising me and himself, Louis laughed out loud then shook his head as he set his concern aside and turned back toward Cedric. 

“Both, really. But of course I think that’s the answer you expect from such a question.” His expression was easy and humored. Lesedi’s light laughter was music on the breeze as she watched our exchange. “We learned from them as an outline and then pursued our own research into the claims that were laid forth. That in itself was a fascinating time even if my lady here did get a bit obsessed by it all.”

“I told him of those ardent interests, now hush.” She pushed his gesturing hand away playfully. “Luckily I had enough interest to spare for you.”

“Lucky you did. And on that note gentlemen, I think I want to take advantage of those many interests before dawn.” He stood and held out a hand for her which she took to rise by his side and mold to his body suggestively. Louis started to stand and Cedric held up a hand to insist no formality was required. “That you’ve retained a gentleman’s manners after all this time is one thing I’ve always admired about you, Louis, no disrespect, Lestat.”

“None taken, I’m a heathen in comparison.” I offered with a nod and a bow. 

“We’d expect nothing less,” he said over his shoulder as they turned and walked away. 

“Well, what an evening. Thank you, Marlana, for sharing such a personal story.” I moved to stand beside Louis in suggestion that we too should take our leave.

“Yes,” he said as he reached and took my hand. “There is no fascination lost in hearing how others came to this life, the things we share and the facets that make us each so different.”

“My story is no less fascinating than what the two of you have put to paper.” She rose from her chair and looked every bit the slim teenage girl on the precipice of womanhood. “I’d love to talk to you more at length about all of it if you wouldn’t mind. There’s only so much one can gather from words on a page.”

As she’d been looking at Louis while speaking I couldn’t help but to say, “I’m sure Louis will be happy to sit down for an interview. He’s fond of them as you know.” 

They both looked at me and then shared a look as if to ask what could be done with me. “She means both of us and you know it, and you’re even more fond of interviews, I’d argue.”

“Don’t worry,” Marlana said warmly as she moved past us to stand at the edge of the patio. “I’ve waited what feels like a very long time to meet both of you, and I promise it will be far more in the way of conversation than interrogation. Until next time my new friends, enjoy yourselves and one another.”

She walked off and I wondered whether she had a partner or someone at least to spend time with in her life here. It made me think of the mortals I’d seen earlier and vaguely, the whole dynamic of the island danced on the edge of my mind, but it was more the ageless dance of the mortals we all used to be, and those we came to love that whispered to me.

“What do you think, Lestat? Perhaps a languorous bath? Or do you prefer a bite and sup?” 

“Wicked Louis,” I said with a laugh. “I had not thought you would be so eager for the amenities offered.”

“Ah, the temptations of mortal blood, so freely offered, you mean? Stimulating indeed, however the bite I referred to would be yours, my beauty.” He released my hand and pulled me into his arms, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. “Are you not hungry for me?” he whispered. “Did you have something in mind, my love?

Next: Poolside


	6. Poolside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude in the pool

****

Poolside  
(Lestat)

"Why yes, there was definitely something I had in mind." I said pointedly as he walked back toward the stairway to our suite on the upper terrace. "Most definitely. You're going to make me wait, are you?” We passed by the mortal women I’d seen earlier and the younger of the two once again stepped toward me. I glanced at her only long enough to leave a mental mark. Tomorrow before the meeting, she would be mine. Louis paused for my distraction then led me the short distance to the steps where he stopped on the second up and turned to me before I could move. He looked into my eyes and cradled my face in his hands.

“All night I’ve been picturing you reclined in the pool.” He leaned down and pressed his cheek against mine, bringing his lips close to my ear. “With nothing but the cool water and my tongue caressing your skin.”

“Ah, so it is the other way around? I am the one who’s kept you waiting.” I murmured, urging him to continue walking. “My punishment should be immediate.”

“And lengthy,” he added with a light kiss to my lips before turning to lead me up and into our suite.

The bed was dressed in splendid orange silks with a multitude of pillows in shades of aubergine and plum; incense perfumed the air, and the cut crystal sconces in jewel tones of ruby and citrine cast an amber light about the room. We passed under an elaborately cut wooden arch onto a lower terrace. The pool was that in name only, big enough only for one or two, closely fit. What a nice problem to have. If I could imagine a hotel where every amenity was laid out by an appropriately invisible concierge, this would be it. There were plush towels, little candles that would burn themselves safely out as the dawn arrived, and a thickly padded cushion that ran alongside the pool itself. Louis stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist; his lips played against my bare shoulder. It was another good argument for not choosing to wear a shirt, though it might have been just as pleasurable to have him remove it between lingual maneuvers. He moved his hands up my chest and then trailed them downward, his nails marking a path to the waistband of the loose pants I wore. I leaned back against him with a sigh and leaned my head to the side. As I knew he would, he moved his lips upward to the tender spot behind my ear. There was no escaping the dizzying desire and just when I thought he would allow the exquisite burn of his teeth, he opted to trace them against me before stepping back, leaving me to yearn for more. The effect was such that I did not notice his quick and skillful fingers tugging at the drawstring, but there I was standing with my back to him, pants around my ankles.

“What a clever player you are, my love,” I laughed and leaned against his chest while wrapping my arms back around his head. “How quickly you have the advantage.”

“And I plan to use it well.” There was no need to turn around to see the smile in those words. “Now, into the pool…”

Very well then, _mon cher voyeur_. I walked around to afford him a better view, then slowly stepped down into the illuminated water. Had either of us as mortal men ever enjoyed the rapt beauty of a lover in motion? A slight pout came to my mouth as I vainly felt that no mortal could understand this slow-motion fascination. I dipped below the surface and held my eyes upon him as he removed what little clothing he wore. For long seconds, we remained that way, studying one another. Some would think that after all the years we’ve spent together we would know every nuance, every line and pattern of one another’s movements but that is far from the truth. The light played on his chest as he came toward me, gentle fingers of darkness caressed the lines of his ribs and downward still, the testament of his desire. How difficult it was for me at times to keep still and let him lead the dance; as he stepped into the pool and came against me, I was fraught with desire. He moved his lips against mine, down to my neck… yes please, I begged silently… his teeth raked across my collarbone, blood drawn and trickling as his hand found me beneath the water. I shuddered and braced against his shoulders which only lengthened the strokes as he keenly pulled and paused, watching me all the while.

“My beautiful Lestat,” he whispered as he pushed against me, collapsing any charade of resistance on my part. I wrapped my arms around his neck and brought his lips to mine. Ever and always might I gladly die for the stunning depth of his kiss. Nothing else exists in the space and time of such desire. The tangible insignificance of the world is replaced fully by the sole truth of who and what we are in that moment together. “Lie back …” he uttered as we slowly untangled. I stared at him blankly for a moment, my senses deliciously fogged, and then with a short, leering glance, obliged him and hopped up to lie back on the thick padding I’d observed before. How eminently convenient, I thought, and surely planned for such pleasures. Deftly, he maneuvered my feet onto his shoulders, and proceeded to do exactly as he’d promised: His tongue played over my thighs, between my legs and to that melody came the counterpart of his fingers, stroking, coaxing, and invading. Each time he’d push me to the edge, and then ease up as he leaned over and looked into my eyes and draw me down to an earthly plane once more.

“Louis,” I stuttered his name and sat up only to raise my hand, shake my head and utter both a command and invitation. “Come.” He took my hand and without effort, he was out of the water and in my arms. He sat on my lap and wrapped his legs around my waist. Our lips met… How I love to kiss him. It’s really one of the most treasured things in my life - slow, deep kissing, down his throat, along his jaw and back once again to his lips. If I were allowed no other pleasure, it would be more than enough. I smoothed his wet hair and leaned down to scrape my teeth against his collarbone. I was rewarded with a sigh of pleasure and what was surely a deliberate grind of his hips. Ah yes, that’s what I wanted my darling. I laughed against his chest and reached down to take him in hand along with myself. Another gasp, and then he nuzzled my head until I claimed his mouth once more. In between those kisses my teeth grazed his jaw and when I heard his breath catch, I paused my hand but a second, then skillfully took us both over the edge. He moved against me in surrender, leaned against my shoulder, his hands wound in my hair. As I wrapped my arms around him I had the strange thought that if anyone saw us in that moment we might appear to be a singular body, but to some degree in such intimacy, we were. Another facet of la vie surreal, I thought.

“You turned the tables on me, my love,” he said, leaning back to look at me.

“Kind of my specialty.” I laughed easily. “You needed that, don’t lie.”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” he sighed. “But now I’m simply exhausted.”

“Is that a hint?” I kissed him and moved back enough to half-stand, but as I did, I lifted him into my arms. “Shall I carry you off to bed?”

“How about you carry me off to that shower first?” He indicated the outdoor shower over my shoulder.

I could get used to the luxurious accommodations, I thought. We rinsed off and dried one another with thick, soft towels. Finally, I offered my hand and we walked through the suite to the day chamber below. This detail was still somewhat bothersome, but Louis was unphased and like him, I was too tired to argue over the matter. At least the sparse room featured a bed and not singular coffins - that would have been a rather unwelcome novelty on our vacation. I’ve gotten quite accustomed to a good mattress and soft linens against my skin. Spoiled, I know.

Next: No Intruder Dared Upon


	7. No Intruder Dared Upon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back in New Orleans...
> 
> OCs - Persephone LeCompte, Mark Rackham (Wrack), Miss Eleanor

****

No Intruder Dared Upon  
(Brian )

A week or so passed and I moved back to Royal Street, settling into my familiar little house at the back of the main courtyard. I’d been oriented toward daylight in the last months and my body was still working on Irish time which caused me to rise before the sun, at least so far. Early May mornings in the French Quarter are luxurious; if you get out early enough it’s quiet while the denizens get ready for the day ahead. The sun’s heat has not had a chance to ramp up much; the air is clear and there’s usually a light breeze off the river. Coffee and beignets at Café du Monde without jostling crowds is a treat in itself.

That first week back I saw a lot of people who made me remember why this is such a great city in spite of the escalating dangers—it was like being enfolded back into a large family of wildly disparate people. Even my more dubious acquaintances stopped to pass some time, ask where I’d been. I spent a full day with Perry going over legal documents and signing those things I was authorized to sign, followed by a long, leisurely meal at Muriel’s on the balcony. We sat companionably, watching the light steal from the sky.

The waiter brought us another round of drinks and Perry took a good-sized swallow of hers. “Hey, I meant to tell you—I had a call from Mark Rackham while you were in transit on your way back here.”

“Wrack?” I asked. My mind, lazy with good food, balmy air, and several cocktails, awakened and shot up several levels of alertness. I knew he spoke with her occasionally regarding the books at his…enterprise on Toulouse Street but generally, he went through me. What was that about? 

“Wrack,” she said, nodding slowly. “He asked if I knew when you were coming back. It was around the time when you were leaving Boston actually and when I told him, he said he didn’t want to bother you, but could I have you call him when you got back.”

“Huh. Well, I was planning on stopping by his place this week anyway. Doesn’t sound urgent.”

“No, it didn’t sound urgent; he was just polite as he always is.” She shivered very slightly, probably not even aware of it. “But maybe it _was_ a little bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“A little bit urgent.” Perry leaned forward, pushing her hair back from her face. “It was just a feeling, but with maybe a little enhanced mental nudge. Know what I mean?” She bit her lip. “I should have told you right away.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told her, “Like I said, I’ll see him this week anyway.”

She sat back in her chair, letting her gaze wander over the bustling square below for a few moments. “Maybe you should see him now. Or call him.” The waiter stopped at our table with the check and I gave him a credit card.

“Sure. I’ll stop by there later if it’ll make you feel better.”

She looked at me a little sheepishly. “Just in case, you know?”

I did, and a few hours after I walked her home, I was walking back toward Toulouse with a box in a large brown shopping bag—a gift for Wrack for hooking me up with the contacts I needed to set up Louis and Lestat’s holiday.

 

****

*****

It was still early, just after nine, but Wrack’s place was pretty busy, at least up front. Outside, it looked like a typical New Orleans bar – faded brick, battens and all, but Wrack had recently put in a lot of money and effort into classing the place up. What used to be old-school 90’s black and red gothy-bordello was now evocative of, as the name of the establishment indicated, La Belle Époque. The décor within suggested that particular overlap of Victorian and Edwardian influences, elegance with small modern touches. I’d seen the plans back when I’d begun looking into the trip but it was the first time I’d been in since the transformation.

“Is that you, Brian?” A throaty female voice tickled my left ear. I turned and was enveloped in a soft and fragrant embrace. “My god, but you look good.”

I hugged the woman back with one arm and steered her to the side of the entryway where we’d been blocking several raucous tourists attempting to gain entrance.

“You're looking pretty amazing yourself, Miss Eleanor. I see you have a new look—it suits you.”

Miss Eleanor is Wrack’s main squeeze. A pretty girl made beautiful by assiduous attention to her person, when I’d first met her a few years earlier she was a candy confection, just beginning corset training. She’d been partial to pastel floral dresses that showed her full and creamy bosom to great advantage. Her hair had been a mass of blonde curls, her mouth petal-pink and enticing. She had a generous personality that allowed her extravagant tastes in wardrobe to seem quite natural and somehow, never costume-like.

She looked very different. The coquettish doll had been replaced with much more subtle attire. Tonight she wore a beautiful gown that shimmered in deepest midnight blue, the creamy décolletage webbed over with black lace that matched the lace gloves on her slender hands. Her waist had diminished by several inches and now it was only a little wider than the span of my hand. Gone were the blonde curls, replaced with a sleek, upswept hairdo tinted dark mahogany with glints of auburn. She gave a graceful twirl. “You like?”

“Very much,” I said with great sincerity.

“Ha! Like you noticed, but thank you.”

“Of course I noticed--you look stunning,” I cast a glance around the room. “You have everyone’s eye, in case you’re not aware.” 

“Taking lessons from _les messieurs_ , I see. Come, sit down. I know you’re here to see Wrack but he’s occupied at the moment, receiving a couple in the private residence in the back. He should be back once he gets them settled to their satisfaction. Enough time for a drink.” She signaled and one of the wait staff appeared at my elbow. “Ben, please bring Mr. Callahan a short Barr An Uisce, neat.”

“Certainly. And for Miss Eleanor?”

“Nothing right now, Ben. Thank you.”

Ben hurried off and Eleanor turned her attention back to me. “So. What do you think of the changes?”

“I can hardly believe it’s the same place. Very elegant, but also comfortable. Not what you’d expect in the middle of the Quarter.”

Eleanor smiled. “That was sort of the point. The courtyard is more of the Quarter bar scene...that’s where the dudebros disappeared. Sometimes they wander in here, but usually they go through the alley to the right of the building.”

“I saw that...little purple and white awning?”

“Right,” she said “Something for everyone. We have top of the line soundproofing so you can’t hear the ruckus outside...same with the private areas in the back. You’d be surprised at the clientele we’ve been gathering. The renovations will be fully paid for by the end of this year, I think. Would have been already but we had the...lull...after _les messieurs_ left, and of course, we were finishing up here.”

I was itching to ask who the guests were, but I held my tongue. I generally kept my distance from the business here except for my role as a go-between when necessary. The door to the street opened and several well-dressed couples came in, talking animatedly about the show they’d just come from at _Le Petit Théâtre_ and I had a sudden pang of longing to see Louis walking in with his beautiful Lestat, discussing the play. I pulled my attention back to Eleanor. “I thought Wrack would be running the goth club forever. How much of this had to do with you, I wonder?”

“Some of it,” she acknowledged. “But he was the one who brought up the idea to change it completely--I just swooped in with the decor ideas and then he sort of ran with it. Kind of nice to be finally rid of the smell of mildew, you know? He’s dying for Lestat to see it. So am I, really,” she said with deliberate carelessness.

“You are a queen among women, Miss Eleanor. I think he’ll be impressed.” 

She smiled, pleased with my answer. I had no doubt that she loved Wrack, but she had a massive crush on Lestat. Then again, so did Wrack. That aside, I was once again observing how vampires are enigmatic creatures. Since I’ve known him, Wrack had always come across like the 1970’s Jersey boy he was when he was mortal--I mean he never let that facade drop. Clearly, there was more to him than that, and though I had sometimes suspected it, he kept the squirrely stoner guy front up pretty well. Then again, Lestat had to have seen something in Wrack that intrigued him. Lestat said once that it was because he liked Wrack’s brass in just coming out and telling him what he wanted to do and making the business proposal that he had worked out. That was probably most of it, but I thought there might have been a little more to it than that. I’d asked Louis why he thought Wrack had chosen New Orleans at all--surely there had to be cities without a vampire in residence.

“Wrack is young. I don’t know his bloodline at all, but he’s weak as vampires go,” he’d said with no hint of condescension. “Living here offers him protection and possibly a little prestige. Most immortals would likely think twice before harming him. He has good survival instincts. Don’t underestimate him; there’s a lot more to him than his façade gives away. ”

Made sense and their relationship remained low-key and cordial. My contact with him had been mostly business, but it was probably as good a way as any to become acquainted. It’s not like I saw him all that often and when I did, I didn’t get any sort of threatening vibe from him...not even in that alpha, top-of-the-food-chain way I’d felt from other immortals.

Miss Eleanor, who’d called herself Miss Ellie back in the candy-girl era, pushed the glass of whiskey toward me. “You twisted my arm,” I said with a smile and picked up the glass, sniffing the golden liquid appreciatively.

“Tell me you haven’t tried this one.”

“No, I haven’t,” I said, taking a sip and letting it sit on my tongue a moment and then rolling the liquid in my mouth. It was gorgeous, spicy-sweet with a distinctly nutty finish. Eleanor watched me expectantly. “Gorgeous. Thank you for thinking of me.” I took another sip and relished it under her approving eye. “And can I ask who taught you how to pronounce the name?”

“The salesman, of course,” she said with a smile. She looked beyond my shoulder. “Ah, here he is at last. I’ll leave you two to talk.” She rose and smoothed her lovely gown as Wrack stepped up. He gave her a warm kiss and turned to me, hand extended. Eleanor gave me a nod and moved across the room toward the bar.

“Hey man, it’s good to see you,” Wrack said as we shook hands. His were smooth, but they still felt much like mortal skin. He was also warm and there was a nice heat in his face that told me he’d fed well not too long ago.

I was taken aback by his appearance--gone were the black jeans, leather jacket and, piercings. He was dressed casually but expensively in dark trousers and a simple button-down oxford shirt. His hair was loose on his collar.

“You too. I can’t get over what you’ve done here—it’s amazing.” He grinned and I caught sight of his fangs. “And you look great.”

“You like the threads, huh?” Another pleased smile. “This is all because of Ellie. All of it,” he said, a quick expression of clear adoration crossing his features. “But hey, I need to talk to you. Come on--we’ll go in the back.”

I picked up the shopping bag and followed him. Once in the office, I looked around curiously. This was nothing like the grimy little hole I’d last seen him in. Two desks, one cluttered but organized, mostly stacks of bar receipts banded in tight bundles and a tiered rack filled with paperwork. Wrack sat down at the other desk, bare except for a gooseneck lamp and a closed MacBook. He gestured to the chair near the wall and I sat down after placing the shopping bag on his desk and pushing it toward him. His head tilted questioningly.

“Brought something back for you,” I said. “To say thanks for the help you gave me setting up that trip. Pretty sure I managed to surprise them at last.” I pushed the bag toward him and he drew the box out.

“Hey, wow. This is great!” He shook out the lightweight raincoat I’d bought for him in Dublin and then did one of those unconsciously beautiful, somehow slow-motion vampire moves, swirling the coat up and around his shoulders and effortlessly sliding his arms into the sleeves. It fit him well, tucked in at the waist and coming to rest below his knees.

“Fits great,” I said approvingly. “Maybe a little warm for summer, but perfect for the rainy winters here.”

He gave me a slight smile. “I don’t notice temperature too much anymore. The coat’s great Brian—thank you.” He slipped out of the coat and hung it on a padded hook on the back of the door. “Listen. I need to let you know about something that happened here about two weeks back.”

I nodded, unfazed by his abrupt change in subject. “I had dinner with Persephone earlier this evening and she said you wanted to talk to me. What’s up?”

“We had an immortal visitor—unscheduled,” he said with some import. 

“Anyone I know?” I asked, putting as firm a lid on the sudden spiral of my thoughts as I was able to, even though I got no sense of inquiry or intrusion from him.

He shrugged. “He’s never been here before, or so he said. I never heard of him, but that doesn’t mean anything, really. He called himself William.”

“Called himself?” 

Wrack sighed impatiently, rolling his eyes. “C’mon Brian. A lot of us call ourselves something other than our given names. I mean ‘The Vampire Mark’ sounds kinda whitebread, you know?”

I couldn’t help it--I snorted laughter because he’d startled me with that remark. “You’re pretty white, Wrack.” I offered.

“Not what I meant. Mark sounds really Pleasant Valley Sunday, you know?”

“Suburban vampires,” I said. “Got it.”

“Yeah. Well, William sounds pretty tame, too, but there was nothing tame about him. Don’t get me wrong – he was perfectly civilized; polite like those Old World guys can be. Nothing he did or said was threatening, but it was there, just underneath.” He sat down in his desk chair, and looked at me, making it a point to hold my gaze. “He was on a mission. I don’t know how I know it, but I do – I just chalk it up to these freaky vampire things that I don’t even know I can do sometimes. Nothing happened and I spoke to him for all of twenty minutes. As far as I know, he left that same night; no sense of him at all and at that time no other immortals were in the City. Lestat and Louis were already off to Paris – there were no guests here and David was gone, too. I thought about calling Lestat, but he can get a little touchy if you know what I mean.”

I did. Lestat would demand to know what the problem was if this immortal happened to stop in New Orleans, did nothing untoward and then just left. He’d likely say it in that terrifyingly frosty voice he uses when he can’t be bothered with something. Being so focused on Louis, yeah, he might easily blow it off – he tends to forget sometimes that not everyone has his pretty much god-like power.

“ Was he old? Like, older than Lestat?”

Wrack leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. “Yeah. Couldn’t tell you how old. He stared at me for a long moment. “The ones who come here---it’s sort of thing to do a little mind touch--not intrusive, just a sort of cordial thing. Sometimes you get a little glimpse of personality or some other little details. This one, this William, he was locked up tight. It’s hard to explain.”

“I think I get what you’re saying.”

He nodded. ”Yeah, I guess you have an idea, anyway. Like I said, as far as I can tell he hasn’t come back. I just think it’s something you should know. Lestat, too.”

I nodded slowly. “What did he look like?”

“Not too tall...maybe 5’8” Dark hair and eyes. Not pretty, more like handsome and imposing when he pushed it. When will Lestat be back?”

“No idea. They just got to the place and it’s an open ended thing. They’ll come back when they’re ready to. If you’re sure he’s nowhere nearby, I’ll wait to tell them.”

“I’m pretty sure. Old One like that, though---hard to say with complete certainty.”

Things like this intrigue me and I couldn't resist a question. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Can you tell when your guests arrive? You know, without that?” I indicated his iPhone with a nod.

“Oh yeah. My super secret vampire senses tingle when others of my kind approach.” His voice was heavy with amused sarcasm. 

I waited a few beats. “I’m asking for a reason,” I said and he sighed

“I can usually tell. Immortal heartbeats are louder. Slower, too. I don’t know if some of the older ones can disguise that. Probably they can.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “You can hear Lestat when he’s here, right?” 

“Definitely, but he wouldn’t bother trying to disguise anything--this is his city. Look, if I have any reason at all to think this William comes back, I’ll let you know right away and you can do what you need to do.”

“That’ll have to work.” I was already working out at least a half-dozen scenarios and probable outcomes if I did or did not call.

“Hey, man. You’re overthinking this. You just let Lestat know when he gets back.” 

Wrack patted my hand and held my gaze with his dark eyes and I immediately felt a lot less anxious. Someone knocked on the office door and it opened a crack. “Hey, boss-- we got a guy arguing over his tab out in the courtyard.”

“Be right out, Eddie. Keep it calm.” Eddie gave a quick nod and backed out of the room. 

“By the time I get out there, Ellie will have it handled. She takes absolutely no shit.”

I grinned.”Better get out there just in case.”

“I’ll let you know if anything changes Brian. And thanks again for the coat.”


	8. Let Me Take You There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis describes a unique (even for them) experience.

Let Me Take You There  
(Louis)

 

  
The island exerted a spell of sorts—the kind of spell that I suspect could quite easily take hold of most blood-drinkers, at least those that are satisfied with the little drink. I have mastered the art by this time but in all honesty, I cannot say that it’s something I prefer when it comes to actual sustenance. Perhaps it’s the influence of Lestat’s powerful blood or maybe it’s just something that’s always been in me. 

My preferences notwithstanding, I know Lestat’s predilections as well as my own and was quite pleased to share them, joining him and whichever mortals he’d taken a shine to of an evening. One memorable night I watched him, a fascinated voyeur when he brought a dark-haired beauty to writhing ecstasy, coaxing from her the female mystery of shuddering, recurring climax and very much enjoying her responses to his ministrations.

Lying together close to dawn I asked him a question. “You didn’t drink from her, Lestat. I am curious. A denial I would not have expected.”

“Mmm. Well, you did arrive rather late in the evening, Louis,” he chided. “You missed my earlier choices. You were a bit busy with the Giant, I was told. And be assured I will will insist on hearing about that, Monsieur. As for denial, it was nothing of the sort. I’d had blood and plenty of it. I decided to drink her experience.”

I rolled onto my stomach and looked at him.

“What?” he asked, easily interpreting my glance.

“You really, really are the damnedest creature,” I said at last, biting back laughter. 

“Where’d that come from?” he asked. He wasn’t fooling me, though, because I saw him chewing his own lip. His eyes were already half closed with suppressed mirth. I threw a leg over his hip and pressed myself tight against him, my laughter issuing forth in irregular gusts.

“So how was it, Lestat? “ I snorted laughter once again. “Playing both ends against the middle?”

“Oh, come now,” he said, aiming for pompous and failing abysmally. “I’d think you of all people would know.”

“Çest magnifique,” I cried. “Oh, my love, you really do know how to outdo yourself.”

~~~~~~

Another night in paradise.

“We seem to have picked up an audience." I murmured. Lestat was lying on his side behind me, legs entwined with mine. He’d been working my body for hours and his movements were infinitely slow and measured, focused alpha waves made physical. He had one arm beneath me, holding my back to his chest while his free hand roamed, caressing and possessive, landing everywhere but where I desperately craved his touch.

It was the audience, the exhibitionism, I suspect. I found loved being watched. Something about the ambiance of this place – the sensual beauty of the surroundings and the beings around us, the ever present, tantalizing spice of blood, both mortal and immortal, dissolving into an atmosphere that seemed ripe and swollen, a burgeoning that was nearly unbearable in its promise of ecstasy. 

I was reaching that place, I realized, reaching it by way of Lestat’s experienced knowledge of my desires. Did I make a sound? I must have: the diaphanous hangings about the bed we occupied floated and rippled and the glass in the myriad, colored lanterns shivered as though they might shatter. My body tensed and coiled in upon itself and Lestat whispered, “Hold, my love, wait for me.”

I saw their eyes, those around us watching avid and intent, many of them holding as I was, their own beautiful and sinuous images waiting as though for a signal and I wondered; were we all connected at that moment, the demon thread that bound our souls to our bodies thrumming in unison? I heard no mind voice, I saw no images beyond the physical.

“Your audience waits for you,” Lestat whispered and in this confidential sibilance I felt again that burgeoning, unbearable promise of heights yet to be reached. “They wait for our consummation, Louis, my love, my own. I would give to them all they want, for have they not heightened your passion, stoked your fire as they watch us, possessed and possessing? They watch and they wait and when I spend myself into your waiting body and you spill to my hand, all around us they will sigh and their ecstasy will rise with ours.”

He slid deeper into me and then receded, his breathing steep, his muscles thrumming. Around us, a collective sigh and a sub-aural humming that vibrated in the bones. “Release us,” he muttered.

I did and for a moment I felt and heard the exultation all around us We were surrounded by pleasured sounds of ecstasy in varied forms gathered and reached. Behind it all the deep, irresistible pulse of immortal hearts thundering in satisfied completion and then, gradually everything faded except for Lestat and the still-spiraling ecstasy; his teeth, rough and needful at my throat and mine at his wrist, drawing in his precious blood.


End file.
